


Sugar to the Side

by vienn_peridot



Series: Orders Up [4]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Body Modification, Face-Sitting, Fluff and Smut, Light Angst, Matchmaking, Mutual Pining, Other, Spark Sexual Interfacing, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Tactile Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-02
Updated: 2016-05-03
Packaged: 2018-06-05 21:57:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6725152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vienn_peridot/pseuds/vienn_peridot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(They're sweet enough without it!)</p><p>Sick to death of watching Ambulon and Drift act like moon-calf idiots, First Aid and Rodimus force the pair to face their feelings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SchrodingersOctopus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SchrodingersOctopus/gifts).



> This fic was commissioned by SchrodingersOctopus. Thank you so much for commissioning me! (I ship them now and it's all your fault XD)
> 
> Theme song for this fic is '[Mercy](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y7ZEVA5dy-Y)' by Duffy.

Rodimus and First Aid bent over a datapad, talking urgently in low voices.

“Are you sure this is going to work?”

“Absolutely.”

“It _has_ to.”

“What, you don’t like Plan B?” Rodimus asked with a smirk.

First Aid gave the Captain a flat stare, subtle flickering in his visor might have been the medic checking his HUD or an optic cover twitching from stress.

“Yeah, nobody likes Plan B.” Rodimus muttered, poking at the datapad. “Ok, how does this sound?”

Silence reined as First Aid read the amended message, radiating satisfaction.

“ _Perfect_.”

Two taps of a precision-crafted finger and the message was uploaded to the ships’ communication systems to be sent anonymously to their targets.

“And now…

“…We wait.”

Drift and Ambulon were _going_ to spend time together outside the Medbay, or else they’d find themselves welded to the inside of a storage closet somewhere with their comms disabled.

With or without First Aid’s assistance.


	2. Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things go according to plan... for everyone except Ambulon.

Ambulon followed the instructions in the mysterious message, working from memory and a little logic to find what he _thought_ was the right table at Swerve’s when a familiar voice interrupted his thoughts and sent shivers down his spinal struts.

“Hey Swerve, do you actually _have_ numbers for your tables or is someone messing with me?”

_Drift_.

“Sure do; the waiterbots have to know where to go, after all.” There was something a little off about Swerve’s customary cheerful patter; something smug and anticipatory that made Ambulon suspicious. “What one are you looking for?” There was a moment of silence and then Swerve spoke again. “Right, I’ll show you which one you mean. Got something here that you’re gonna need as well.”

Then Swerve was leading Drift around the corner of the bar, the swordsmech’s expression going from wary to hopeful when he saw Ambulon standing foolishly beside the empty table.

“Ambulon! I thought I saw you come in. Right on time, too. I see you found the table ok.” Swerve was beaming, definitely smug. “Don’t look at me like that; I’m just the bartender, not the mastermind of this little setup.”

Ambulon’s spark sank into his pedes and he looked away from Swerve and the elegant figure behind him, not wanting to see Drift’s expression if he laughed at him, because just hearing it would be bad enough.

Drift didn’t laugh. The sound coming from the speedster’s powerful engine didn’t sound amused, either.

“I’m going to beat the slag out of Rodimus.” Drift growled. “Actually, Ambulon you probably deserve in on this too since it looks like you got the same message.”

Surprised, Ambulon looked up to see an obviously angry Drift giving him a concerned look over the top of Swerve’s helm.

“I don’t want to know the details of anything; I’m _not_ being an accomplice to this.” Swerve said emphatically, “I’m just doing what I’m told so Magnus doesn’t revoke my bar licence. You two are to sit down, read this datapad and stay here for at least an hour. Don’t worry about drinks; anything you order tonight is on the house. Just read this datapad and _please don’t kill me_.”

With that Swerve took two long (for a minibot) steps forward, shoved a datapad into Ambulon’s hands and zoomed off, squeaking something semi-coherent about coming back for their orders in a minute.

Confused, Ambulon looked down at the datapad in his hands and back up at Drift. The swordsmech looked like he was taking deep, calming vent cycles. When he had Drift’s attention Ambulon shrugged clumsily at the table.

“We may as well. Free drinks and all.” He said awkwardly, trying to ignore how his spark fluttered as Drift came closer and slid gracefully into one of the seats. “If this is a setup Rodimus probably wasn’t acting alone. First Aid probably had a hand in it as well.”

When Ambulon got the datapad booted he found the most bizarre icebreaker game he’d ever seen. Apparently they were supposed to match pickup lines with the mechs that had suggested them. Drift saw his expression and snagged the datapad, his fingers brushing Ambulon’s wrist in a move that could have been accidental or deliberate. In any case it made the Ward Manager’s plating tingle.

Drift smirked and immediately began reading the list aloud in a scarily accurate imitation of Ultra Magnus, which had Ambulon snickering quietly by the time Swerve returned to cautiously offer to take their orders, saying it had been almost an hour.

Ambulon had to triple-check his chronometer before realising Swerve was right. He glanced at Drift, wondering what the speedster would do.

Nothing could have convinced Ambulon to leave after he saw the hopeful little look on Drift’s faceplates.

Turning to Swerve, Ambulon ordered something mild and saw Drift relax out of the corner of his optics, the other mech ordering something similar before returning to the conversation they’d been having about whether ‘If your altmode was a door I’d slam you all night long’ was more likely to have been suggested by Rodimus or Whirl.

He was relaxed, enjoying himself thoroughly and _almost_ ready to forgive the mechs responsible for setting them up when Drift read a line whose origin Ambulon _definitely_ recognised.

### ~V~V~V~

“Sit on my face and let me lick my way to your Spark” Drift read from the ‘pad, snorting with laughter as Ambulon almost choked on his mouthful of engex mixer. “Now that one’s got Rodimus written all over it.”

A muffled noise from across the table drew Drift’s attention away from the datapad. Ambulon had buried his faceplates in his hands, the slivers of faceplate visible around his fingers glowing brightly in infrared.

“First Aid.” Ambulon’s voice was muffled. “I’m going to _kill_ him.”

Drift cycled his optics, wondering why such a terrible pickup line would have Ambulon _this_ embarrassed.

“I’d rather you didn’t. You’d have to do more shifts in Medbay and I wouldn’t be able to ask you out as often as I want to.” Drift almost bit his glossa on the admission, hastily changing the subject. “Um, why though? It’s just a stupid line, right?” the way Ambulon was reacting told Drift that it wasn’t the case. “Or do I need to have words with him?”

Ambulon shook his helm, pulling his hands away from adorably flushed faceplates and dropping his helm to the table with a _thunk_.

“It’s my slagging mods.” Ambulon mumbled at the tabletop. Drift had to lean forward to hear him properly over the general background noise of the bar. “He’s been teasing me about using them on you for _months_.”

“Mods?” It took longer than it should have for Drift to figure out what Ambulon meant in the context of their current conversation. His nasal ridge was inches from Ambulon’s helm and he could smell Medbay, fresh paint and something else that he couldn’t name. “Oh, _mods_. You don’t need to be embarrassed about them, Ambulon. I’ve seen nearly all the mods you could get, pre-war. I won’t laugh, promise.” Drift thought for a moment, watching Ambulon. The mech was still tense; stressed and silent. He needed to salvage the situation somehow. “Well, unless you’ve got a spike that plays the Imperial March, because that would be pretty fragging funny.”

Drift had seen Ambulon at Swerve’s Star Wars marathon last week, he thought Ambulon would get the reference and he was right. The Ward manager’s helm jerked up and Drift was suddenly staring into wide yellow optics at point-blank range, a vague shadow at the bottom of his vision was the medic’s mouth hanging open.

“Wait, you don’t have that, do you?” Drift furrowed his brows, pretending to be extremely concerned. “Because if you do I’d have to offline my audials to give you a proper blowjob, and I kinda enjoy hearing it when someone overloads.”

By now Ambulon was looking at him with a strange expression spread across his faceplates.

“You really are a giant dork.” Ambulon pronounced seriously, his expression resolving into a giant grin that Drift wanted to treasure forever.

“So what’s the cure for that, then?” Drift asked; they were both leaning across the table, voices low and intimate and it was a struggle to distract himself from the extremely kissable shape Ambulon’s lips made when he smiled like this. “How much trouble am I in?”

“Lots; it’s incurable.” Ambulon responded, optics dancing with amusement and Drift found himself yearning closer to the other mech, drawn to the good humour he was radiating. “Good reflexes should save you from most of the side effects.”

“I’ll have to remember that.” Drift chuckled and licked his lipplates, mouth gone suddenly dry as he realised how close they were. “Hey, Amublon?”

“Yeah?”

“I really want to kiss you right now.”

“Go for it.”

The words had barely left Ambulon’s lips before they were both leaning forward to close the gap. It was soft and warm and so impossibly sweet that for a moment Drift was absolutely certain he was dreaming. Then his fans came on with an embarrassing k-click that Ambulon’s echoed and Drift knew he was awake.

_They don’t make that sound in dreams._

When they finally parted Ambulon’s optics were burning, their fans humming quietly.

“Shall we go somewhere a little more private?” The medic suggested. “Don’t want to give Magnus any reasons to have us warming separate cells in the brig.”

“Sounds like an excellent idea.”

### ~V~V~V~

Drift’s habsuite was closer but Ambulon didn’t get to see much once the door closed behind them.

He got a vague impression of space combined with the scent of resin and weapons’ polish before Drift distracted him with another kiss, warm hands sliding over his plating in delicious patterns. Ambulon moaned and returned the hot press of lipplates eagerly, allowing Drift to lead as they groped and giggled and stumbled through the swordsmech’s habsuite to land upon one of the softest berths Ambulon had ever encountered.

The feeling of the berth beneath his backplates reminded Ambulon that whatever they did, it probably wouldn’t end up being whatever Drift was wanting as he felt a sword-callused hand caress his pelvic armour.

_Time to take the lead_.

He licked deep into Drift’s mouth, letting his glossa extend just enough to get the swordsmech’s attention. It earned him a sharp engine rev and an interested sound, strong hands playing along his thigh seams. Pulling back, Ambulon nipped gently at Drift’s lower lipplate, feeling the heat of Drift’s gaze scorch right through him.

“Let me show you my mods.” Ambulon suggested in a low voice, activating the biolights he’d had installed before licking Drift’s lipplates. “Before we get distracted.”

It was incredibly gratifying to see the way Drift’s gaze focused on him, drawn to the tip of his glossa that would be glowing softly where Ambulon kept it visible, peeking flirtatiously from the edge of his grin. He’d refined this expression into almost a work of art; get them interested, get them distracted, get them off without anyone discovering what Ambulon did or didn’t have between his legs.

_Primus, I’ve wanted to do this forever. Tonight is going to be anything_ but _a chore._

Ambulon felt almost guilty about using this look on Drift, especially when the swordsmech purred and kissed Ambulon until his cooling fans were whining at their highest setting. Hands roamed and Ambulon helpfully brought a leg up between Drift’s thighs, exploring the smooth curves of Drift’s aft with both hands as the warrior ground against him, groaning into his mouth.

Something shifted and then the pressure against his leg lightened, Drift’s movements becoming sinuous and fluid. He abandoned Ambulon’s mouth to nibble at the would-be medic’s forehelm crest, bared valve and erect spike smearing trails of lubricant over his armour. Almost reluctantly, Ambulon curled his fingers into Drift’s hip joints, trying to coax the swordsmech to move up his frame.

“Distracted. Right.” Drift panted, nuzzling into Ambulon’s neck cables. “Can’t get distracted. You want to show me your mods.”

The devious mech then found a point just below Ambulon’s jaw where several major neural lines converged, kissing and sucking at the spot until all Ambulon could do was moan and writhe limply beneath him.

Drift relented when Ambulon was reduced to spitting static, grinning deviously down at the blissed-out mech only to jump and yelp when Ambulon swatted his hip.

“Overload me like _that_ and you won’t find out what I have planned for you.” No matter how he tried Ambulon couldn’t make himself sound angry. “And someone will have a shit-fit about you trying to fry my neural net.”

“Shit-fit?” Drift laughed, moving obediently to kneel with his bared valve hovering over Ambulon’s mouth. “Where the slag did you learn a phrase like _that?_ ”

“Earth medical dramas.” Ambulon eyed the swordsmech’s valve hungrily. It looked even better than he’d imagined, especially engorged and wet with arousal as it currently was. “They’re surprisingly good.”

Before Drift could think up some smart-aft reply Ambulon reached up and hooked his fingers over the top of a white pelvic girdle and pulled the swordsmech down another few inches. Unable to resist temptation he let his glossa extend, extra length unspooling from within his jaw so he could run the tip through the lubricant beading on the folds of Drift’s valve and across the speedster’s tempting biolights.

Drift’s surprised gasp and the way he wriggled appreciatively when Ambulon lapped around his main sensor nub was too much for Ambulon and he tugged lightly, encouraging Drift to settle his full weight on his reinforced helm as he began to lick and suck in earnest, humming happily as his chemoreceptors filled with the taste of the swordsmech.

When he fit the entire length of his glossa into Drift’s valve he could feel callipers rippling, trying to adjust. Drift ground down onto him, making lovely little throaty whimpers of bliss and getting lubricant everywhere as Ambulon wriggled his glossa in a practiced movement, coming close to sending Drift into overload.

Then he activated the vibrating mod in the tip of his glossa and revved his engine, finally tipping Drift over the edge.

Ambulon moaned low in his throat as Drift arched and wailed, overloading over and around him. He heard the muffled sound of powerful fingers scraping down the wall and powerful thighs clamped down on his helm as the swordsmech all but drowned in the pleasure his lover was causing. Any second now the strength of Drift's overload would shut his systems down. Ambulon didn’t mind the slight ache in his helm from the pressure currently exerted on it; Drift was strong but he was built to withstand more than the swordsmech could deal out in berth. 

“Primus, Ambulon.” Drift panted.

Except that.

_Slag, he was supposed to pass out!_

Hazy blue optics and a pleasure-drunk expression gazed down the overload-splattered armour of Drift’s chest.

“You nearly offlined me with that.” Drift slurred, tipping sideways onto the berth to lie on his back, fumbling for Ambulon’s hand and giving it a squeeze. “Give me a second and I’ll return the favour.”

“Why… _how?_ ” Ambulon stuttered, feeling familiar panic suffuse his systems.

“Mods, like I said b’fore.” Drift’s frame was cooling rapidly, his systems resetting and recalibrating with a speed Ambulon hadn’t anticipated. He rolled over to face Drift, watching the speedster’s faceplates as he explained. “Some pleasurebot ones not legal for my frametype, back in the old days. If you had contacts you could get ‘em, though. Some mechs knew frame overrides, would force a processor-blanking overload so they didn’t have to pay. Figured the overload was payment enough. Then there were the other ones… You passed out with them and you were never seen again.”

“Makes sense.” Ambulon understood, he _did_ , but Drift awake and ready for another round was not how this was supposed to go.

_I hoped this would last more than one night…_

There was a pale a blur of movement and Drift was crouched over him, a suggestive smile on his face as he raised Ambulon’s captive hand to his lipplates and gently kissed the scraped knuckles.

“So how about I return the favour?” Drift’s voice was a sultry purr as he leaned down to press their forehelms together. The heat of unrelieved arousal still pouring from Ambulon’s frame scorched the air between them. “Show you the mods I got for nicer reasons?”

Ambulon’s processor stalled and his spark cracked in two.

“I… Drift, I _can’t_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Getting to play with headcanons for this chapter was a lot of fun and so was translating bad pickup lines into a cybertronian context! XD


	3. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Problem, meet solution.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Putting these two together has turned them into giant sappy dorks and I regret nothing! XD

“I… Drift, I _can’t_.”

Drift couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. He tilted his helm sideways, unable to stop the confused frown that crept onto his face.

_I don’t get it. He just about melted my processors with the best oral in the known universe and now he says he_ can’t?

Ambulon was trembling beneath him, the expression on his face a sparkbreaking mix of arousal, anguish and resignation. He was looking up at Drift like he was about to lose everything bright in his existence.

_…Can’t what?_

“Can’t in what way?” Drift asked carefully, still holding Ambulon’s hand in his while he waited for the answer.

It didn’t matter how long it took; Drift would wait. He would wait until Ambulon was ready to tell him.

He’d wait forever if he had to.

“I _can’t_ , I… I don’t have an array.” Ambulon looked away, expression going distant and bitter as his words took on the character of a rote explanation. “They didn’t think it necessary for MTO combiner parts to have the hardware.”

Drift had the sudden urge to murder Decepticon scientists. He throttled it down as it was _seriously_ inappropriate for the situation, but flagged it for later thought.

_I need more information_ and _I’ve got someone more important to do right now._

“Are you still capable of experiencing pleasure and achieving overload through other methods, when you feel that way inclined?” He asked carefully.

Yellow optics snapped back to focus on Drift, shock and disbelief flooding across Ambulon’s face.

“Yes.” He said guardedly. “Everything else works fine.”

_Time to gamble._

“Would you like a demonstration of my tactile skills?” Drift aimed his most inviting smile at the now obviously confused mech. “I bet I can give you just as good as what you just gave me. At _least_.”

“You’d do that?” Ambulon couldn’t seem to believe his audials. “It’s just... Nobody plugs in these days and tactile takes a lot longer than array ‘facing so most people don’t bother.”

“Ambulon. I have absolutely no problems with swapping jacks with you _or_ spending hours teasing you to the edge of overload with touch alone.” Drift said adamantly, reaching out to gently cup the side of Ambulon’s face with one hand. “Any time, any place, whatever method suits you best.”

He forced himself to stay calm as Ambulon stared at him, yellow optics flickering as he searched Drift’s expression for something. Eventually Ambulon must have found whatever he was looking for, because his expression softened, the corners of his mouth twitching up into a crooked smile.

“So if I asked you to overload me right now, using your hands and your mouth, you’d say…?”

Drift’s spark was all but singing, threatening to break free of his chest as he smiled down at Ambulon.

“I’d say hold on to your grounding wires, because I’m about to blow your _entire fragging nervous system._ ”

Ambulon was laughing and shaking his helm as Drift leaned in to kiss him, catching his mouth easily and quickly turning that laughter into open-mouthed moans that he devoured eagerly.

With painstaking care Drift explored every square inch of Ambulon’s frame; worshipping the simple, unassuming lines of a form that had captivated him and drew Drift’s optics away from the flashier mechs on the ship. He sucked at _that_ spot on Ambulon’s neck again and felt unexpectedly strong fingers dig into his plating, leaving gouges he would wear proudly until his self-repair took care of them.

He memorised every seam, joint and wire that got him an engine rev, a noise of pleasure or had the other mech pressing into the touch, desperately seeking more. Ambulon was usually so reserved it made every reaction feel that much more special, pushing Drift to work harder as he tried to give Ambulon the overload of his life.

_He deserves it, deserves better than those lazy afts he had before._

Drift was so determined to draw Ambulon’s pleasure out as long as he possibly could that he completely forgot how aroused his lover had been when they started, nearly missing it when Ambulon started begging shamelessly for overload, writhing and keening beneath him on the berth. Drift was grinning, kissing those pleading lips and slowly bringing Ambulon closer to his overload when he arched up unexpectedly, almost unseating Drift as flat chestplates fractured elegantly along hidden transformation seams and opened to bare Ambulon’s internals to his startled gaze.

Dark fingers stilled and Drift watched with awe as Ambulon’s sparkchamber came forward. He was humbled by how much Ambulon trusted him, that his frame would override conscious control like this to bare his innermost being to Drift.

Then Ambulon was trying to push himself up on his elbows, gasping apologies and wrinkling his nose up as his autonomics fought against conscious control, chestplates shivering between the conflicting impulses to bare the core of his self to his lover and to cover it again because Sparkplay was extremely intimate and _not_ something you indulged in with just any lover.

And usually not on a first date.

“Ambulon, wait.” Telegraphing his movements carefully, Drift reached out and gently brushed callused fingertips over Ambulon’s flushed cheek. “I’m honoured. I really, truly am. I can keep going if you want, just tell me where I’m allowed to touch and that’s where I’ll stay.”

Ambulon lunged up, dragging Drift into a fierce kiss.

“Touch me anywhere, everywhere. Just slagging let me _overload_ already, you sadistic glitch.” He demanded when he finally let Drift go.

Yellow optics blazed brightly as Drift ran his glossa over bruised lipplates, assessing the damage.

“As you command.”

He kissed and nibbled his way down Ambulon’s neck, hands busy on some seams around the other mech’s solar plexus that had gotten interesting noises earlier. They worked again, Ambulon crying out and squirming against the berth as Drift’s lips moved slowly towards that lovely sensitive spot on his neck.

Suddenly Drift found his helm caught in an unbreakable grip and Ambulon was begging incoherently, gasping half-formed pleas and moving Drift’s helm lower, towards open chestplates.

“It’s alright, I’ve got you.” Drift wasn’t sure if Ambulon could hear him at first, but then the pressure relented and turned to clumsy stroking along his finials that brought a purr to his engine and a surge of renewed interest from his frame.

Drift kissed and nibbled his way inwards, following a path that was complicated by Ambulon’s unusual build and what were obviously surgical changes, probably from attempts to make the combiner team work. The fingers on his finials petted and stroked as he progressed, fumbling whenever he did something Ambulon particularly enjoyed.

_He tastes so sweet_.

The outer metal shield protecting Ambulon’s sparkchamber was fully retracted when Drift finally got there, baring the inner crystal chamber to his ministrations. Deliberately thorough, Drift didn’t give any one place more attention than any other, using Ambulon’s reactions as a guide to bring the mech as much pleasure as was physically possible.

The first gentle brush of lips over warm crystal made Ambulon wail, the second was accompanied by a careful glossa-tip that tasted the bitter sting of electricity as the other mech almost convulsed, then a proper kiss and Ambulon finally tipped over the edge with a cry that made Drift’s audials ring.

The look of startled ecstasy on Ambulon’s faceplates when he finally overloaded was something Drift wanted to see over and over again; as many times as Ambulon would let him. He tried to burn it into his memory, gently easing Ambulon back down with long, soothing strokes down his sides as their cooling systems worked overtime and Ambulon stared up at him with a dazed, happy expression. His chestplates remained open, scored metal of his sparkchamber moving slowly to cover the inner crystal chamber.

“Warned you to hold onto your grounding wires, didn’t I?” Drift said with a grin.

Leaning down, Drift carefully shielded the glow of Ambulon’s lifeforce with his hands and kissed the tip of a sharp nasal ridge.

For a long moment, all Ambulon did was stare at him in obvious disbelief as his systems finished post-overload resets.

“You really _are_ a giant dork.” Ambulon pronounced as his chestplates slowly closed under Drift’s palm.

 “ _Your_ giant dork?” Drift asked hopefully, unable to control himself.

_No_ that’s _the expression I want to remember forever._

“ _My_ giant dork.” Ambulon whispered hoarsely as he pulled Drift into a crushing embrace.

Drift wrapped his arms around the other mech and held him as close as he could, listening to Ambulon’s systems cycle down into recharge. He stayed awake as long as he could, half-afraid that if he closed his optics for even a moment then the amazing, impossible, _perfect_ evening would turn out to be a dream.

Eventually his own frame overrode his conscious wishes and Drift followed the other mech into sleep, reassured by the warmth and solid presence of Ambulon’s frame entwined with his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Commission information can be found [here](http://adhesivesandscrap.tumblr.com/commissions) if anyone is interested.


End file.
